by Aly Martinez
“Excellent point. I should freshen up. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“I’ll have the coffee waiting.” He kisses my forehead and walks away.
I use the few minutes to dig out the bag of gifts for him and his family. Kara and I weren’t sure what to get them, but Brett assured me that they all love coffee. So we utilized our Nell’s employee discount. I bought them all nice insulated travel mugs and Kara bought fancy flavored coffees. It’s nice and it fit into our budgets, thanks to Nell practically giving them to us at cost.
“Babe, you coming? I’m not going to be able to hold the kids off the presents much longer. There is about to be a riot down here!” Brett shouts from the bottom of the stairs.
After a quick stop at the bathroom, I head down to my first ever Sharp Family Christmas.
* * *
AFTER THE kids finish opening the roomful of presents, Erin and Leah let the older ones go down to the basement to play one of the video games they received. Like a well-oiled machine, Mr. Sharp stands up and starts passing out Christmas gifts to all the adults. By the time he’s done, I have an intimidating pile stacked in front of me. Hmm, maybe I should have bought these people more than travel mugs. I look over and catch Kara’s eyes as she sits on the floor, clapping at her mountain of gifts like one of the kids.
“Okay, Jess, you go first,” Brett says, placing a beautifully wrapped box on my lap.
I’m mortified that everyone is going to watch me as I open presents. I hate being the center of attention. Worse yet, I’m going to have to watch them all, one by one, open my crappy mugs. Instead of immediately ripping open the box, I begin to chew on my thumbnail. Suddenly, I’m very uncomfortable and wishing I could skip this and go downstairs to play video games too.
“Gorgeous, relax,” Brett whispers into my ear as his family looks on.
Fantastic, they are going to think I’m crazy for freezing up about a silly gift exchange. I suck in a quick breath and plaster on a smile as I tear through the wrapping paper.
“Oh my God,” I say, staring down at the brand-new laptop in my arms. Crap! “You bought me a laptop?” I ask.
The horror of his buying me something so extravagant must show on my face, because his smile quickly disappears.
“You said your old one broke.”
“You bought me a computer?” I repeat a little louder.
“It’s just a present, Jesse. Stop overthinking it. It’s Christmas, babe,” he tries to reassure me before I hit full freak-out mode.
“Brett, I can’t accept this. I, um…I can’t. This is too much.”
“Gorgeous, take a deep breath. I bought you a computer because I wanted you to have one. Stop thinking about the price tag. This isn’t about money. This is about me wanting you to have a computer for school.”
“Good job, honey. That’s a really nice one,” his mom says, trying to defuse an obviously awkward conversation.
I can see that they are all confused by my reaction. I bet most girls would love an expensive gift for Christmas, but I’m not most girls. All I see in front of me is a pile of money Brett spent on me, and I’m about to give him bowling shoes. Double crap!
Brett answers his mom with a simple, “Thanks,” never moving his eyes from mine. “Jess, stop thinking about the price tag. I know that’s what you’re doing. Remember what I said? I work hard for moments like this. It’s just a computer.”
I nod, but I still hate it. As soon as we leave, I’m going to refuse to accept it. It was a sweet thought, but it’s too much.
“Me next!” Kara yells, reaching toward her stack of gifts.
“No!” The whole room shouts at once.
Kara looks up puzzled.
“Kara, I have one you have to open first. Babe, there’s another one for you too,” Brett says, walking out of the room.
Great, he bought me another present. What’s next, a new car? Oh God, please don’t let it be a new car!
“Close your eyes,” he says from around the corner. “Both of you.”
I close my eyes, hoping to disappear. His family begins laughing, so I know Kara is making grabby hands and acting silly.
“Okay, open them.”
I open my eyes to see Brett, standing in front of us, holding two of the cutest kittens I have ever seen. Kara snatches the white-and-orange one while shrieking. I stare at him for a minute before pulling the fluffy white ball of fur from his hands.
“You got me a cat?” I smile as all of my anxiety from earlier vanishes. “A white cat?”
“I know the black ones freak you out.” He smiles, and I can’t help but launch myself into his arms. “Now this was the reaction I was hoping for with the laptop.” He snuggles me against his chest.
“It’s perfect. You remembered I only like white cats, I say, feeling touched that he would remember such a trivial detail from a conversation months ago.
“Of course.”
“Wait, we can’t have cats, Brett,” Kara whines.
“Yes, you can. I had a little chat with your asshole landlord. He was kind enough to waive the pet fee also.” Our landlord is anything but kind. Brett either paid the deposit or had more than just a simple discussion with him. “By the way, neither of you are ever allowed to be alone with that scumbag.” Yep, more than a chat.
“You talked to our creepy landlord? Seriously, hot stuff, this is the best present ever.” Kara begins to buzz around the room again.
“I love it. Thank you so much,” I say, grinning from ear to ear.
“Now…will you keep the computer? I know you were planning to give it back later.”
“Yeah.” I give in. I’m such a jerk for reacting the way I did. He was trying to do something nice, and I clammed up over a price tag.
Realizing that Kara and I have taken over the morning, I sit down, clinging to my kitten, who I decide to name Daisy, and urge his family to continue with gifts.
The next hour passes quickly as all the presents are unwrapped. His family seems to love the mugs, and they even start arguing over the coffee flavors. Brett’s family gives me and Kara accessories for the cats. Beds, bowls, toys—we get it all. His father even bought matching rhinestone collars for them. They’re perfect.
The time comes for me to give Brett the presents I bought him. I’m nervous, but I’m also confident he will love at least one of them.
“Jesse!” he exclaims as he pulls off the top of his shoes. “These are awesome. Shoes that actually fit! You’re in real trouble now. Ill-fitting shoes have been the only thing holding me back from beating you.” He laughs, sliding them on and strutting across the room.
Even in pajama pants and bowling shoes, Brett is a sexy man. It warms me in all the wrong places while I’m sitting in a room full of people.
Next up is the picture. I’m not quite as confident about this one. I have no idea how he is going to react. I’ve talked myself out of giving it to him twenty-seven different times since I picked it up from the shop. Yet somehow, it still managed to get wrapped and make its way under the Christmas tree. The shoes were easy. I knew he’d like them. But this picture… It’s a risk. And if he doesn’t the feel the same way, I’m putting myself out there for some serious embarrassment.
He opens the cheap cardboard box, and the smile on his face fades, leaving him utterly blank.
I have no idea what to think of his reaction, but I give him the benefit of the doubt and a minute to figure it out.
Caleb and I took the picture from the ball to a design lab. They specialize in artistic imagery, and they took the already amazing picture and turned it into a work of art. Thankfully, my brother used to date the girl who owns the shop, so she cut me a fantastic—free—deal. Caleb made the frame for me. Who knew Caleb was crafty? But when I told him my idea, he told me he could easily make it. Together, it turned out perfect.
The lab took the picture and added a foggy filter over the top. It starts at the bottom left corner of the picture and creeps toward the top right. Y
ou can still see Brett and me, but the haze obscures your view. Caleb made the picture frame of natural rustic wood. In the top right corner, he carved a sun with its rays stretching across the top and down the side. When you put them together, it looks like the sun on the frame is pushing back the fog. I may have cried when I saw it. It’s stunning, even if you know nothing about our history.
I watch him closely for some sort of reaction, but he doesn’t move a muscle.
“What is it?” Leah asks. It’s clear to everyone that even more dramatics are happening in our little corner of the family room.
“Jesus.” Brett stands up and walks out of the room, leaving the picture frame on the couch beside him.
His family are all looking at each other, and I can hear the guys rumbling questions. I’m not sure what to say. His reaction honestly surprises me. I look to Kara for silent advice. She knows the whole fog-and-sun story, but she offers nothing more than a wide-eyed shrug. I hand her Daisy and decide to follow him. At the very least, I should apologize for my unknown transgression.
When I quietly make my way up the stairs, I hear him pacing in our room.
“Hey.” I step into the room, closing the door behind me.
“Where did you get that picture?”
“I saw it under your keyboard when I went to pick up Caleb.” He suddenly stops pacing and looks at me questioningly. “He helped me pick out your shoes. It was that night you picked us up from the bar.” My answer must satisfy his curiosity because he resumes his pacing and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m clueless as to why he’s acting like this.
Before I can’t analyze it any deeper, I’m lifted off my feet and thrown to the bed. Brett’s mouth lands harshly on mine. I only struggle for a second. Then it’s all hands and lips.
“Jesse, that picture is amazing. It randomly showed up on my desk the day after the ball. I must have looked at it every five minutes since then.” He roughly bites down on my nipple through my shirt, causing me to cry out. “Too hard, gorgeous?”
“No.” I gasp for breath as he continues.
“I love it.” He pins my hands over my head and rolls his hips into mine.
It’s around ten on Christmas morning, his entire family is sitting downstairs, yet I still find myself lifting my hips so he can remove my pants. I hear a familiar foil packet rip. Then he swiftly slams himself inside me. I let out an uncontrollable moan, and he presses a hand across my mouth.
“You need to be quiet. This will have to be quick, so don’t hold back on me.”
He wasn’t kidding about it being quick, and I’m not talking about him. Brett puts every trick he has into getting me off. With his mouth on my breast, his thumb on my clit, and his length buried to the hilt inside me, it only takes a few strokes before I unravel underneath him. A few seconds later, he follows with a silent release of his own.
Still fully dressed, with our pants around our ankles, he lies on top of me, catching his breath.
“That…picture.”
“You don’t have to put it on your desk or anything. I just got the idea in my head—”
“Are you fucking mad? I’m definitely putting that on my desk. Hell, I feel the need to blow it up into poster size and hang it on my living room wall,” he teases. “Jones would have to make a huge frame for that though.”
“You knew he made it?” I ask, surprised. I thought Caleb was doing me a special favor.
“Yeah, but I have to say, he really outdid himself with that one. Seriously, Jess, it’s amazing!”
“You seemed mad when you opened it.”
“I was just a little overwhelmed. That’s all. Sorry if I bit you too hard.”
“It’s okay. Thank you for my computer and Daisy.”
“Daisy, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s my favorite flower.”
“Good to know.” He winks as he slowly pulls out.
We need to go back downstairs, but what I wouldn’t give to spend the day in bed with him. Unfortunately, that isn’t an option, so I pull up my pants and watch him head to the bathroom.
All in all, even through our ups and downs, this is unquestionably my best Christmas ever.
Chapter Thirty
Jesse
IF I thought our relationship got better after Thanksgiving, Brett and I have come a million miles since Christmas. It’s like something happened that day two months ago. A huge, realistic, life-altering rubber band snapped everything into perspective. Considering that we have only been together for four months, I would say our relationship is pretty serious. That is if you don’t consider that we still haven’t talked about our actual relationship.
Not a single day passes that I don’t spend the night with Brett. Well, if you don’t count Thursdays. Caleb has reassured me on more than one occasion that Brett isn’t with Sarah. He says that they meet up and go drinking at the bar for a few hours. It still burns when Brett disappears though.
Every other night, Brett comes to my apartment or Daisy and I go to his. For someone who claims to be a dog person, he sure does love that cat. I don’t have to bring her every time I go to his place, but he usually insists. He once gave me the silent treatment when I showed up alone.
We still don’t talk about Sarah. I know what you are thinking. How can you not talk about the crazy, hot, blond elephant in the room? Well, it’s easy. Denial is a hell of a tool. I just pretend like she doesn’t exist. I know doing that doesn’t help us move forward. It also means that I don’t have to face the fact that my boyfriend, who I’m in love with but who doesn’t reciprocate, is married to another woman. Maybe I’m the crazy one, not her—or at least that is what I think until Sarah comes prancing back into my life.
It is Wednesday afternoon and I am doing Brett’s grocery shopping. He gave up on me making the list a few weeks ago and just started giving me his credit card so I could do the shopping myself. At first, I was a little uncomfortable spending his money, but after the third time he brought home cottage cheese instead of cream cheese, I snatched his card and walked out.
Today is a very adventurous trip to the store. I’m focused on the row of spices, trying to figure out the lowest price on garlic powder when someone plows into me.
“Shit! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Jesse?”
I see a woman with black hair I vaguely recognize.
“Ummm…yes,” I respond questioningly. I should know this woman, but I can’t seem to place her face.
“Sarah Sharp, remember?” she says, filling in the blank and making my skin crawl
“Oh, um…hey,” I say, turning back to the shelf, hoping she’ll walk away.
“Do you live around here?”
“Yeah, just down the street,” I clip in her direction.
“Hey, while you’re here, let me ask you a question. I’m making Brett a big anniversary dinner tomorrow, and I was wondering if you know a good side dish to go with the steaks I’m making?”
Seriously, I must be confused. There is no way Sarah is standing here asking me for recipes.
“Um…what?”
“Brett loves my cooking, but tomorrow is our anniversary, so I want to do something special. You know, spice things up a little.” She laughs a hollow sound that sends chills down my spine.
“Um, baked potatoes?” I mumble then push my cart forward trying, unsuccessfully, to get away from her.
“Jesse, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over.” She sounds sincere, making me pause only long enough to see the sarcastic smile on her face.
Last time I came face to face with her, she ran the show. She pushed my buttons and tortured me with information about her and Brett. I’ve tried to forget about her, but you can’t pretend someone doesn’t exist when they are coldly mocking you in the middle of a grocery store. I’m not going to let her pull this crap again.
“Sarah, I have no recipes to sh
are with you, nor do I have any desire to kiss and make up. You can make whatever the heck you want to tomorrow, but just know that, at the end of the night, he will be in my bed.”
Was it dirty to say that to her? Heck yes! Did it feel better than winning the lottery? Heck yes! Did it hurt like crazy when she slapped me across the face? Hell yes!
“You fucking whore! You think Brett cares about you? Well, guess what, bitch? He loves me. He always has and always will. The difference between me and you is I have him and you never will.”
“Right.”
I try to walk away, my face still stinging, but apparently Sarah wasn’t finished yet. She yanks my arm, digging her fingernails into my flesh, and snatches me around to once again face her.
“Stay the fuck away from my husband,” she says, finding the chink in my armor. My husband.
As bad as her words hurt, I know this is a worthless conversation. Sarah isn’t just damaged—she’s destroyed. I’m not arguing with a sane woman. She’s delusional and manipulative. No verbal sparring is going to win this argument. This time, I don’t cower though. I’m done with that. We both know Brett is mine. Heck, everyone but Brett knows that. This conversation is about her.
“Sarah Erickson.” I purposely use her maiden name. Yeah, that fancy new laptop Brett got me may have Googled her. “I am going to pretend you didn’t just put your hands me. I am going to pretend you didn’t just call me a whore. Hell, I’m even willing to forget you followed me here today.” This little chance meeting is too much of a coincidence for her not to have followed me. I don’t have time to really let that sink in though. “I’m not, however, willing to let go of the fact that you think this is somehow a competition between the two of us. Sarah, you need help. You need to talk to a counselor, and you need to visit Manda so you can, once and for all, let go of your guilt.”
This time, I see it coming. She slings a closed fist at my face, but I duck, causing her to knock down a spice display. I keep talking because she needs to hear this. I’m probably not the right person to tell her, but she definitely needs to hear it.
